


contribute to the chaos, watch and then complain.

by spellman (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Bucky just really needs a hug, Bucky-centric, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Second Person, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, like really heavy angst, little bit of crack at the end i guess?? idk define crack, not a sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 03:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/spellman
Summary: ‘Imagine waking up in an alley, with cracked ribs and a black eye and you’re bleeding and your jaw is killing you; but you don’t wake up in the hospital.’In which Bucky can’t look Steve in the eye.





	contribute to the chaos, watch and then complain.

**Author's Note:**

> who wants some heavy angst? nobody? oh ok 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING!!! there are some pretty heavy depictions of violent homophobia (its set in the 40s though so i suppose you expected that) and also homophobic slurs like f//g and qu//r are used so read @ your own peril

Imagine waking up in an alley, with cracked ribs and a black eye and you’re bleeding and your jaw is killing you; but you don’t wake up in the hospital. Waking up in the hospital would mean that you gotta tell people what happened and you can never – _never_ tell anybody what happened. So you walk home. And you can’t breathe and it’s dark and you don’t know what time it is or how long you were out, in that alley.

But home - that’s where Steve is and you cannot tell him what happened because that would mean telling him why it happened. And you can _never_ tell him why it happened. So you walk to a bar because hell, you have nowhere else to go, and so you walk into a bar where they don’t ask, don’t question, just sell ya the drinks and get on with it.

And then it’s closing time and you have to go home but it’s fine because Steve is asleep now, it’s 4am, the clock says and Steve is sleeping so you don’t have to talk so that’s future Bucky’s problem, so you walk home. Drunk and beat and still bleeding, breathing all funny; you walk home. Except it’s past 4am now, and Steve isn’t asleep, he’s standing in the kitchen, pale as a ghost, lookin’ like he hasn’t slept in a week.

“Bucky? God damnit, Buck! Where the hell have you been?” he says, and he’s angry, but he’s also worried, he only gets like this when he’s worried but you didn’t want to worry him, you just _didn’t want to talk_. “Bucky?” he says then, his voice a lot softer, and you look up at him and he’s worried but you don’t need his goddamn pity, but the look on his face is enough to send you bawling anyway. He strides, hell, almost runs forward to hug you but you don’t let him because you don’t deserve it, because you’re like _that_.

“Buck?” he whispers, and touches your arm, but you swat him away, and you double over in pain, fuck, they really did somethin’ to your ribs, but he’s confused, with an expression like a lost puppy. And you’re still cryin’, like a goddamn child. “Bucky. What happened?”

And you couldn’t put into words the way he says it, but something, something about it makes you tell him everything, like you can’t help it, but you don’t want him to know because he’ll hate you but you tell him anyway, but your brain says no, but your mouth keeps on moving. But you tell him all of it:

“I kissed a boy once. When I was twelve. And he punched me after and I got a black eye and you asked me what happened and I said that I got knocked in the face with a baseball, but I lied. And I’ve lied to you so much and I keep on lying to you because I don’t want you to hate me because you’re my best friend, Steve, and you’re my entire world but I can’t be your friend because I’ve lied to you for so many years, and it’s not the fact that I lied, but it’s what I lied about! There’s somethin’ wrong with me, and-“

“Buck, slow down. Sit down. Are you drunk? Sorry, more important question- what happened?”

“What?”

“What?”

“What, you’re not kickin’ me outta the house? Or are you waiting to call the cops? Cause if so, I’d rather just le-“

“Oh my God, Buck, I’m not calling the god damned cops! I’m not kicking you out, I just wanna know what happened, I’ve been waitin’ around for you all night, you turn up past four, drunk and beaten up, but you won’t tell me what the hell has happened to you!”

“Some fella kissed me, earlier. We got caught and he acted as if I came onto him, got me jumped in an alley. I woulda fought back, but there were easily a dozen of them versus one of me, so I let it happen. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” he asks you, and you look away from him before speaking again.

“I- I just said. Don’t make me say it again. Please.” You say, almost whispering, and you sound so pathetic, and your best friend is there, pitying you because there’s somethin’ wrong with you, something that had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

“So what you’ve kissed fellas, who ca-“

“Don’t you dare ask me who cares.”

“But-“

“Steve, you can ask me who cares when my ribs aren’t fuckin’ cracked! You- you can ask me who cares in some other life in another century because right now, people do fucking care! A hell of a lot! Hell, it’s not like you know.” You turn away, because it’s all you can do to put a wall up between you, and god damn, you’re still sobbing like a baby and it’s getting ridiculous and you should probably just leave right now-

“I know,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry?”

“I know.”

“Don’t mess with me. It ain’t funny.”

“I’m not. God, do you think I’d joke about that?” he asks, and you take a deep breath before turning to face him, and he looks pained almost, and it kills you, because you’d do anything if it meant that he never had to feel that pain again. “I like boys. I like girls too. It’s weird. And I’ve never told anybody. Ever.” He looks smaller than usual, and he looks scared, as if you’re gonna say somethin’ bad.

“Why are you scared?” You ask, trying to coax it out of him, ‘cause he’s acting like his best friend hasn’t just come home from drinking away his feelings, trying to forget how fucking _disgusting_ it feels to be called a faggot and a queer.

“I’m not scared.” He says, staring at the ground. “Just nervous.”

“I am, too. I don’t see you any differently, y’know.”

“Ditto.” he smiles, and looks up. It’s a whole lot of effort, but you smile back.

**

Shuri throws herself onto the seat next to you gracelessly and pulls out her phone.

“What’s good, gay boy?” she says without looking at you. It’s her standard greeting for you, ever since she walked in on you and Steve – well. You know.

“Homophobic.” You can’t help but think that that has a _wildly_ different meaning to you than it used to.

“Oh _yeah_ , you _really_ got me there.” She says, nodding at you sarcastically. “When’s America boy’s flight landing?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” You reply, though you do care (quite a lot).

“Whatever, you say, Barnes.” she shakes her head. “Whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> some things:
> 
> \- shuri is a lesbian so jot that down
> 
> \- i’m gay so don’t come @ me for using homophobic slurs in my writing lol
> 
> \- the last little epilogue thingy whatever it is might seem pointless but i just kind of wanted to show how different That Gay Shit was afterwards if you get me? like how it’s normal for him now idk i just wanted him to have a happy ending where he embraces his gay because he deserves better
> 
> \- this isn’t beta’d so feel free to point out mistakes n shit
> 
> \- i’m such a slut for second person pov
> 
> \- pls leave kudos xxxxxxxxxxxxx
> 
> happy tuesday y’all  
> -s


End file.
